The King Is Dead (Long Live The King)
by Supernova95
Summary: A darkness falls over the Kingdom of Gotham when King Bruce dies of a short, but unexplained illness. To make matters worse the new King, Timothy, is convinced that King Bruce is not dead, and the fate and future of the kingdom is left perilously in the balance when a stranger breaches the palace claiming to be the King's true heir.


**So this is my NaNoWriMo story from last year that I got about 1/5 done and now have the peace of mind to revisit and edit (also hopefully posting what I have will help me write the rest).**

* * *

It was customary for a citizen to mourn the passing of a father in two ways: the outward wearing of mourning vestments; as black as night, heavy, a constant reminder of the loss; and the inward, reflection, sacrifice and prayer.

It was customary for a country to mourn the death of their King as their own Father.

And so Gotham was in mourning.

Their King: Bruce, a fair and just man, had died after a short illness from causes unknown.

"The King is dead;"

There wasn't a soul in the Kingdom of Gotham who was not wearing black. Women, children, even babes in arms, who would have no recollection of the golden age the King brought to his country, were dressed to pay their respects.

His son, Timothy, was to be crowned after the mourning period had ended, as was also customary. How long the mourning period lasted though was decided by the castle itself.

"Long live the King."

* * *

He was just so tired; the past few days had been too much to handle. Bruce was gone. Dead. Bruce left him. This was not a situation he had thought to plan for. He was far too young too be King was his first thought each morning and last thought each night. He wasn't ready for this; he wasn't prepared.

Tim took a deep breath and struggled to open his eyes.

His third day as King of Gotham was a bright and golden morning, the sun shined through a crack in the draperies. Birds sang obnoxiously and Tim's heart fluttered at the thought that for some life could go on as usual. The birds did not understand the passing of a King. The birds did not understand the hole that now existed where Bruce used to be.

Tim felt tears prickle in his eyes.

Three days and the depression of loss had not lifted at all. Sobs rattled though his chest. Tim turned over in his bed, grabbed his covers and buried himself again, not ready to face the day. Maybe if he just ignored everything it would eventually go away.

* * *

The sun had not yet risen when Alfred awoke. He had always been an early riser and current events didn't seem to stem that habit.

If he had thought the passing of Master Bruce's father was bad for the country, it was nothing compared to the mourning His Majesty's death received. His heart was warmed by the reception, before his stomach dropped as he remembered just why they were in mourning.

Alfred sighed and threw back his covers; there were servants to organise and a castle to run, neither of which were going to happen by themselves. He carefully dressed in the black aide's robes he had made for when King Thomas passed. He had never thought he would need to use them so soon.

His first stop every morning was the kitchen; taking a small roll for himself he over saw the making of breakfast for King Timothy, Master Richard and Master Jason. Two of which he knew would be up and needing feeding right away. Timothy on the other hand was another matter entirely. King Bruce's death had hit him particularly had, he had not been seen out of his quarters since he left the late King's bedside long after he drew his final breath.

Only Alfred had stayed with King Bruce longer.

He made sure that both Masters Richard and Jason had a hearty breakfast of sausages and eggs, delivered piping hot to their rooms. He made Timothy a breakfast of a simple chicken broth; easy on the stomach but still filling, just in case the boy was vomiting again.

He delivered the soup himself, not stopping once until he reached the King's rooms, and even then he only paused to listen to the noises of the room before him. Today there was only sobbing. Then again it was entirely possible that the only reason the boy was not bending over a privy was due to not having anything in his stomach to throw up.

The new King had been finding it particularly hard to eat over the past few days. It was a natural expression of his grief they were told by the physician. But King Timothy had not eaten since two days prior and Alfred hoped that a simple broth might wet his appetite. Alfred knocked politely; not waiting for the answer he knew wasn't coming to enter the room.

Master Timothy was lying awake and staring at the ceiling.

"My Lord, how does chicken broth sound for breakfast?" Alfred asked, setting down the tray of food and opening the curtains. The boy was silent and when Alfred turned to look, he saw that the King's cheeked was ashen making the tear streaks ever so more prominent.

Alfred sat on the bed, running a hand though Master Timothy's hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"I'll just leave the soup on the desk for when you feel up to eating My Lord." Alfred said smiling. He spent a few more minutes steadily stroking Tim's hair when he deemed the young King calm enough Alfred made to get up; he had many more duties to attend to today and would visit the King again later.

"Alfred" The King's voice cracked with disuse. A hand reached for him and Alfred turned back to the boy who took that as a signal to envelop him in an embrace. Smiling softly Alfred retuned the hug. "Why did he leave me?" The King said brokenly as he started sobbing again.

"I don't know My Lord. I don't know."

* * *

Dick had been chasing off courtiers all morning. It was bad enough being in charge of a whole troop of knights in charge of keeping the Kingdom safe, but being expected to also run the Kingdom was a bit of a stretch even for him.

That, and Jason's fretting wasn't helping at all.

Being the left and right hands of the king meant that Dick and Jason had practically grown up brothers. Both moulded since childhood to be the best possible Knight and Spymaster they possibly could be, they had been taught together, sparred together, pranked together. Practically inseparable, well at least they were until Bruce took in Tim, a noble child whose parents had died in the plague that had been sweeping the land.

From then on Jason had been enamoured and there was nothing any of them could do to tear him away from Tim's long eyelashes and slight, almost permanent, blush. It would have been sickeningly sweet if Jason had actually acted on his little crush. Unfortunately for Dick he was happy just admiring from afar, taking every opportunity to ogle Tim and talk about him nonstop. 'Tim is amazing at arithmetic'; 'Tim managed to make three hits on Bruce this morning Dick. Three!'; 'Tim glows when he's reading in the upstairs library, he's really pretty.'.

It was actually disconcerting to have his spymaster, usually stoic, brother fall to pieces over a boy. So Dick couldn't really fault Jason for fretting over Tim.

Except he did.

The Kingdom's on the brink of falling to pieces and Dick doesn't care what people say, but Tim is too young to take the throne. He's grieving and in no state to be answering questions on how the economy is going to recover from the death of their King, even if he is the best person to ask.

Which was why he needed to find Jason. He needed help keeping the nosey members of court away from Tim whist they run interference and wait for him to get back on his feet, quite literally.

Bruce's death had hit Tim the worst out of all of them. He had always needed the most, and yet needed the least as well. He had always been the most outwardly emotional of the three of them as well, so it had to be natural that he'd react like this. It was a daunting experience to suddenly have a kingdom thrust into your control.

Dick sighed as he rounded a corner and entered the least trafficked area of the castle, Tim's rooms are at the far end of this wing, Jason's are the next corridor along, and his sources tell him that Jason hasn't been out of the wing yet. Those are the two places that he is mostly likely going to find Jason.

Dick made his way to Tim's rooms first, he may as well check on him, he thinks of him as a little brother and has always treated him so.

"Timmy?" He says knocking gently on the slightly ajar door to Tim's room. "Hey little bro." Dick smiled as he saw Tim sitting on the edge of his bed slowly sipping some soup.

"Hey Dick." Tim said. He sounded exhausted; he looked it too. There were grey bags under his eyes and his face was pale from fatigue and gaunt from the lack of sustenance.

Dick took the almost empty bowl of soup Tim offered him with a small mumble of how he's full, and placed it on the table. Returning to tug the younger boy into a much needed hug.

"Hey little bro, I'm on the lookout for Jay, but I thought I'd pop in to see how you're doing and if you needed anything."

Tim smiled up at him.

"I, I'm doing… better. I think. It's not quite as painful. I don't think. I mean, it's still so painful, there's something missing from me, I'm not whole anymore, and that feels like it's ripping me apart. But, I don't know, I just think I'm a little better."

Dick ruffled his hair.

"Day by day little bro, remember baby steps and you'll be better in no time at all."

"I know" Tim mumbled.

"Hey, what's say you me and Jason have dinner tonight? Just the three of us?"

Tim considers it, then, a small smile creeping onto his face, he answers,

"I'd Like that."

Dick hugged him tightly again before kissing his forehead and mentioning that he'll see him at dinner. He needed to find Jason.

* * *

Jason's rooms were probably the most organised in the castle, probably even more so than Alfred's and that's saying something. He enjoyed his world being where he needs it to be, he likes the control, which is probably why Bruce thought he'd be a great spymaster. And he was a great spymaster: the best. He'll be the best for Timothy too. But first Tim had to need a spymaster, a situation that was seemingly moving further and further away by the hour as they waited for Tim to come to terms with things.

It did worry him so, Tim had always been the most outwardly emotional of the three of them. He was never one to hide his feelings behind a blank wall, but Bruce's death just seemed to have broken him. It hurt Jason to see him so lost, and in so much pain.

A knock on the door broke him out of his depressing thoughts

"Jason? You in there?" he called out to the affirmative and Dick came barrelling into the room, tripping over his own feet. Jason smiled,

"I thought knights were supposed to be graceful?"

Picking himself up from the floor Dick huffed a laugh and shaking his head he rolled his eyes, "You know what they say; do as I say, not as I do."

"Yeah, well Bruce always said you should lead by example not-" he'd forgotten. How had he forgotten? It had only been three days, Bruce's death was still fresh in his mind, and how could he have forgotten?

The room felt like it had been doused with ice; the playful atmosphere had disappeared, to be replaced with a sombre one.

"I-" Jason didn't know what to say, it was all so new, Bruce shouldn't be dead, it was all so new. "I didn't mean…"

Dick smiled, tired. "I know Jay, I know."

They both sat on his bed, Jason leaning into his older brother.

"I just saw Tim," Dick continued, "He's looking better, he was sitting up and eating. Soup. Alfred had obviously made it, it smelled delicious." He smiled, "I convinced him to eat dinner with us tonight, so be there."

Jason saluted, "Yes sir" earning him a sharp swat to the back of the head.

Dick bumped their shoulders, "How about you and I get some stress out in a training session, hand to hand, no weapons."

Jason laughed, "You're on."

* * *

Their personal training room was in a cavernous subbasement, only accessible by, now, the four of them, and was equipped with everything from stuffed dummies to a revolving wooden contraption of Bruce's making for sword training and stuffed mats to help ease the pain from falling over.

It was state of the art, but by far their favourite thing to do was to use the mats hand-to-hand combat.

They wrapped their hands and started running through some of their basic drills as a warm up. It had been quite literally drilled into them that going though the motions helped calm them down and get them to let off some steam, especially Jason who hand the habit of letting thing build up so much that it used to be quite explosive when things came out. Now, with the help of Bruce and admittedly his crush on Tim, Jason found himself a much more balanced person. He could think though situations quicker and easier than ever before. It made him a great spymaster.

Their sparring lasted longer than usual, both of them working though things and so concentrating more on what they were doing than their usual fun sparring. It was an even match with calculated attacks and defensive manoeuvres from both of them, with hands and feet flying everywhere: kicking, parrying, blocking. By the time Dick had finally swept Jason's feet successfully from under him and had a killing strike aimed at his throat they were both drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted.

It was a good feeling, always had been. Their bodies' exhaustion taking over from their minds' which were still alert from the spar. They made their way down to the stream that ran through the cave with true smiles on their faces. They knew Bruce was always proud of them, and he would still be proud of them. So they'd take care of Timmy and they'd take care of the running Kingdom until Tim was in a place where he could do both of those himself. After all, there were two of them, and even though they had never trained for this, they would manage it together.

* * *

Dinner was to be held in Timothy's rooms at 7pm sharp, both Dick and Jason had changed into more informal mourning clothes than they had to wear around the castle whilst attending to matters relating to the running of the Kingdom. This was family time, and they had even managed to persuade Alfred to cook them a roast chicken, Tim's favourite, well to be honest he didn't take that much persuasion. Anything that was good for Tim was nothing off Alfred's back.

Alfred loved them all as though they were his grandchildren, but he had always taken a particular liking to Tim. The boy had always much preferred to sit with Alfred, learning all he could from the aide, than he would train with the two of them. And when he had learnt all he could from the elder man, they would sit and play logic games, sharpening the mind of the future King. It was a good system that Bruce wholeheartedly approved of.

It was even Alfred's suggestion that they make this dinner as informal as possible, to lessen the burden on Tim to be better, when they just wanted him to be himself: grieving and all. By the time they arrived in Tim's reception rooms dinner was already at the table and Tim was tentatively sitting and waiting for them in his nightclothes. Dick was suddenly very happy they hadn't had this dinner in one of the more formal dinning areas, Tim hadn't yet put on his mourning clothes, and from the current state of him Dick didn't believe he was yet ready to do so. They knew it wouldn't matter very much, but word getting out of the new King not wearing traditional mourning clothes in the more public areas of the castle would sure set off some discontent in the more rebellious regions of the Kingdom.

The moment Tim noticed they were in the room he practically flew to them and they enveloped him in a well-needed hug.

"Hey Timmy, how you doing?" Jason said into Tim's hair, a hand stroking through it in a comforting motion.

" 'm okay." Tim replied his voiced muffled by Jason's chest.

After a few long, but needed, minutes in an embrace the three of them sat down at the table and Dick started serving everyone some food. There was plenty top go around, but Dick still started with Tim and made sure he had enough on his plate before moving onto Jason and himself. Tim was looking, and feeling, far too thin, as though he was wasting away before their eyes. Dick's strategy was to put more food on Tim's plate, and although he won't eat it all, he'll eat more than if he put a smaller amount on his plate. It seemed to be working: well at least so far.

Jason's strategy was to look concerned at the amount of food left on the plate, which always seemed to work because Tim couldn't face making Jason upset. He was almost as far-gone on Jason as Jason was on him and before, if they hadn't notice soon, Bruce and Dick had concocted a plan to lock them in the downstairs broom cupboard by the ballroom until they got their act together. Now though, everything was too fresh, even though they'd get through it much better together than obviously pining for each other Dick just couldn't bring himself to act. The plan was far too much of Bruce for it to end in any way but pain and tears.

The dinner had started with stunted small talk about the weather and how nice the food was; now there was an awkward lull in conversation as no one wanted to address the elephant in the room. So Dick decided to completely change the conversation,

"I had a report today from the Knights out in the southern quarter saying that their boundary alarms had been triggered, but it didn't seem like anything had been tampered with. Their crops are fine; their livestock is fine. I've sent orders that a mage visit to check the alarms. We're hoping that one of the spells is just malfunctioning, but we won't know until he returns next week at the earliest."

Tim's brow furrowed, "It sounds like it could be, but usually if the spell is not working properly then all the spells would be giving off the same alarms. Which mage did you send?"

"Zatanna"

Tim smiled, "Good. She is perfectly competent. She'll know to perform a comprehensible check for magical tampering; most mages seem to fail to be able to tell the difference between sets of magic. It sounds as if someone's tried to gain access to the base spell but couldn't and so the boundary alarm was set off. I wouldn't know unless I could study it, but we are in good hands with Zatanna."

Dick and Jason shared a small smile; it was like having their old Tim back. All they had to do now was keep him distracted.

"There was an altercation last night in the upper city, a man decided that it would be a good idea to see if he could drink a whole cask of ale, before proceeding to not only throw it all back up but try to slay a 'dragon'…" Dick air quoted with a laugh before continuing, "it the landlord's dog. Commander Gordon said it took five men to restrain him. They've put him in the dungeons for a few nights to get the ale out of his system and try to deter him from drinking so much again. Apparently his wife is not much pleased."

Jason snorted and Tim let out a small giggle. It was niece to see his brothers so light-hearted after a week so far filled with so much misery. Unfortunately there were things they had to attend to which would be not so merry.

"We have some dignitaries from Metropolis and Themyscira arriving tomorrow for a couple of days to pay their respects. Alfred says they'll be arriving early afternoon. How long they stay is completely up to you, but it would be nice for you to be there to welcome them." Dick said carefully.

Tim put down his fork and nodded, "Of course. It would only be right. Of course I'll be there."

Jason grabbed his free hand, "We'll be there too, your left and right hand men, and Cassandra and Stephanie should be back early tomorrow morning. You won't be alone, we're with you every step of the way."

Tim smiled up at him and nodded. Baby steps.

* * *

The rest of dinner was spent in an encouraging haze of funny stories and mild laughter, soon the moon was high and nearing fullness, and Dick was fighting the urge to yawn every few minutes.

Tim, however, was almost asleep in his desert.

Dick and Jason shared a look that said both 'That's adorable' and 'It's time to turn in'. They worked together, Jason picking up Tim (to his weak protest) and Dick opening doors and pulling back covers until the new King was safely tucked under his quilts. Winter was soon going to be setting in and the nights were already getting far too cold for the simple sheets they use in summer.

"You coming?" Dick whispered, and Jason looked torn for a few moments before he shook his head,

"I'm going to stay for a bit longer."

Dick nodded and gave both Tim and Jason a kiss goodnight on their foreheads, "I'll see you tomorrow little brothers."

"Night Dick." Jason replied, Tim murmured something in his sleepiness and Dick quietly left the room smiling, not wanting to disturb Tim any more than the unavoidable.

Jason lay on the bed next to Tim slowly stroking through his hair. In a matter of minutes Tim had managed to octopus himself over Jason, quite content with the attention. There was a pleasant harmony in each others' presence, there was no pressure, no Kingdom, no matters to attend to.

"It's going to be okay, right Jay?"

Jason looked down at Tim, "Of course it is Babybird, you have so many people looking out for you, you're going top be absolutely fine. We'll make sure of it. I'll make sure of it."

Tim was quiet for a few minutes and Jason thought he's fallen asleep, but when he'd tried to extract himself from the tangle of their limbs, he felt a hand on his arm.

"Stay?"

Who was he to deny his King? He shucked off his boots and clambered under the covers still fully clothed, holding Tim until they both fell asleep.


End file.
